


amid the leaves of grass

by Siria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve and Tony brave the wilderness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	amid the leaves of grass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheafrotherdon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/gifts).



> Thanks to Gyz for betaing, and to Dogeared for being a cheerleader! <3

"Look," Tony said, "it's not that I'm saying that Clint was wrong—though he was wrong, he was so wrong, I could hire someone to write an ode to his wrongness—I'm just going to stand here and point out that I have mastered this. I'm going to ask you to observe my mastery, Steve."

Steve sighed. "I'm observing, Tony." It was hard not to. Tony was standing on top of a tree stump; with the plaid shirt he was wearing, the still-pristine boots on his feet and the newly-purchased pack on his back, he looked like a caricatured woodcut of a lumberjack.

"Thank you, that's excellent, I work well with an audience," Tony said. He hopped down off the stump, bright-eyed and animated in the way that Steve normally only saw him after he'd successfully humiliated a business rival in public, or after a really good orgasm. "I told him, didn't I?" he continued, striding off into the trees, following some internal guide that Steve couldn't fathom. "He said there was no way I could make it in the wilderness! It's all the suit, Stark; can you hack it without it, Stark?"

Steve sighed and trailed after him. The things he did for the sake of his marriage. He tried to focus on the scenery around them. It had been a while since he'd been out of the city for anything other than hurried trips trying to stop Loki's latest plots, and Central Park was great, but there was something to be said for the silence you found in a place like this. "We're not really in the wilderness though, Tony. It's Harriman State Park—Manhattan's forty miles away."

"That," Tony said, ducking beneath a tree branch, "may technically be true, but since I see neither a Starbucks within fifty yards of us or the least sign of a super villain bent on world domination, this is definitely not civilization any more. We are out on our own! No suit, no phone, no JARVIS—like Walt Whitman said, I shall walk forth in the path that nature guides me to—"

Steve wrinkled his nose. "I'm pretty sure that Walt Whitman never said anything like that, Tony."

"I'm pretty sure he did," Tony said, "I'm almost positive, I… cannot do an online search for his poetry. Barton, that _bastard_."

"Walt Whitman never wrote anything like that."

"Yes, well, whatever, if he didn't he should have, it sounds like the kind of thing he'd say and anyway we have a kinship, Steve."

"Uh huh," Steve said dryly, taking a long step across a small stream and reaching back to take Tony's hand to help pull him over. Tony's hand was warm in his, the skin scarred and work-worn.

"This is absolutely, it's a—we both contain multitudes, for one thing, that is a given, well-known journalists at newspapers of record would agree with me, and that's even before we get to the fact that he would probably have appreciated your ass as much as me."

Steve had long ago stopped keeping a mental list of all the surreal things he'd experienced since he'd first met Dr Erskine, but this conversation was tempting him to start it up again. He didn't say anything, just turned to keep going along the faint trail that led through the trees, but apparently he didn't have to because Tony continued, "I'm not sure why you're so embarrassed about me talking about your ass, it's really an excellent example of the type."

"Yes," Steve said, "you've told me before. Of course, the president happened to be listening at the time—"

"Pfft," Tony said, waving a hand, "Not like it's nothing he didn't know already. The man's straight but he has eyes."

Pepper had warned Steve that bringing Tony anywhere he didn't have constant access to 4G and delivery in thirty minutes or less was a dangerous endeavor, but Steve had punched out Hitler over a hundred times. He'd thought he'd been safe—another reminder never to question Pepper Potts' judgment. Next time, Steve thought, he'd just have to distract Tony by making out with him until his current big idea went out of his mind. For all his self-proclaimed genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist status, Tony could go very satisfyingly pliant against you if you necked with him for a bit.

Steve drifted for a moment, thinking about that, which was why Tony's squawk of alarm startled him so much he almost tripped and fell into a mud puddle. "Where—what?" he said, looking up to the sky and half-expecting to see an attack coming from there. "Tony, are you—"

"The map! The map's back in the car, which is somewhere that is very definitely not here, and I don't have JARVIS and there is _no GPS in nature, Steve_."

"That's… true," Steve said slowly, "but—"

"Oh God, the _Post_ is going to have a field day with this. 'Stark Found Dead in National Park.'"

"Tony, no one's going to—"

"'Experts Believe Reduced to Eating Granola Before Death.'"

"Trail mix bars, Tony, they're just—"

"We should probably start conserving our urine, just in case." The look in Tony's eyes was more than a little manic. "God, and I can't even Tweet about the fact that my threat level is currently BEARS when there might actually be bears around."

"We really are forty miles away from Manhattan," Steve said. "Honest."

"God, the trustees' meeting is next week," Tony groaned. "If I die before that, Pep's going to bring me back to life and kill me again."

Steve did the only thing he could do at a time like this: he grabbed Tony by the collar of his ridiculously expensive designer plaid shirt, hauled him in and kissed him. He'd grown to love the scratch of Tony's facial hair against his skin, the way Tony's tongue curled hot against his—the way the scrape of his teeth against Tony's lower lip would make Tony shiver against him and fall silent. When the kiss finally ended, Steve pulled back far enough to say, very softly, "Tony. The map is in my pack."

"… oh," Tony said, sounding dazed.

"And I once walked across southern Austria using only the stars to navigate."

"Uh huh," Tony said, his hands sneaking around to push into the back pockets of Steve's pants.

"So we'll be fine, and back in Manhattan in time for dinner tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night, huh?" Tony said.

"Well," Steve said, putting on his very best and most earnest poker face—the one that only Peggy and Bucky and a handful of others had ever been able to see through. "We do have a tent, after all, and I wouldn't exactly be a good team leader if I didn't help you out with your survival skills when we have the chance."

"Survival skills, huh?" The grin on Tony's face was the one that generally preceded at best serious property damage; at worst, banner headlines on TMZ.

"Uh huh," Steve said, nodding in mock earnest, ducking his head so that he could look at Tony through his eyelashes. "I think we should probably start with cuddling for warmth."

"Oh," Tony said, "well, never let it be said that I'm one to stand in the way of higher education, Captain"—and then they were kissing, lit up by spring sunshine, the grass sweet and dew-damp beneath their feet.

(After some thorough scientific investigation, they discovered that the skin-to-skin method worked best.)


End file.
